


bruges

by liadan14



Series: ready for the comedown [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Joe, Bottom Nicky, Discussion of Forgiveness, Introspection, M/M, Nicky Topping from the Bottom, Reconciliation, Top Booker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: The first time Nicky lets Booker fuck him, Booker is flat on his back on the decadent, enormous hotel bed in Bruges with a leather strap around the base of his cock.OR: Nicky and Joe take Booker back to Bruges to make some better memories, and Nicky and Booker discuss how in love with Joe they both are.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: ready for the comedown [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890964
Comments: 39
Kudos: 465





	bruges

The first time Nicky lets Booker fuck him, Booker is flat on his back on the decadent, enormous hotel bed in Bruges with a leather strap around the base of his cock.

Nicky had tried to explain, beforehand, that he wouldn’t care in the slightest if Booker shot off within him in ten seconds – in fact, in some ways, it might even enhance the experience – but Booker had been resolute that he wanted to make it last.

“You’ve given me so much,” he argued. “Let me give you this.”

 _What have I given you_ , Nicky thinks, rising and falling on Booker’s cock as slowly as he is able, _that you did not give us first?_

Booker’s sweating, by then, his arms corded tight with the ferocity with which he’s gripping at the bedsheets. He’s flushed down to his chest and his mouth is open and kiss-bruised.

“Is the angle alright?” Nicky asks Joe, teasing.

“Mm,” Joe agrees, barely hearing him. Not that Nicky can blame him, he has his sketchbook open and his fingers are stained black with charcoal as he rushes to capture the scene. Nicky can hardly wait to see it – the first image of their lover Joe has created in which he is weighed down by pleasure instead of sadness.

Booker’s hips stutter upwards and Nicky groans.

Joe looks up from his sketching sharply. 

Nicky lets his upper body fall to rest heavily on his palms, caging Booker against the bed as he begins to move his hips, truly, harshly, quickly. Beneath him, Booker tosses his head from side to side, thighs clenching, toes curling.

“You can fuck me, now,” Nicky says, low in the humid space between them.

The grip of Booker’s fingers on his hips leaves bruises. The scratch of Joe’s pencils on his sketchbook turns rushed and frantic, quick to capture the discolored skin even as it heals immediately. The headboard bangs into the wall as Booker’s hips flex up and up to meet Nicky’s rise and fall down.

“Fuck,” Joe mutters, watching them.

Nicky rears back, hand falling to himself, only to be pushed away by Booker, clumsy with lust and desperate to prove himself.

Perhaps Nicky proves something to him when he comes all over Booker.

When he lifts off, Booker’s cock is swollen in its constraints. He’s gotten so wet it would look as if he’d come already if he weren’t still so hard.

Joe’s faster than Nicky, not yet clumsy with endorphins and orgasm. He loosens the leather band, and Booker’s back bows as he comes immediately, shaking and shivering and groaning and spraying wet and hot as Joe jerks him through it.

Before he’s even done, Booker’s sinking to his knees in front of Joe, pliant.

By the time they’re done, Booker’s covered in smudges from Joe’s charcoal-covered fingers, marking up his face, his neck, his cock.

-

It is unavoidable to think of the last time they were in this position, in a bed just a shade too small for three, listening to the students in Bruges caterwaul in the streets, Nicky’s eyes meeting Joe’s over Booker’s sleeping form.

“I wish we’d never left him,” Joe says, regret thick on his tongue.

Nicky swallows heavily. It was his call, the first time. They had both known that Booker might come between them, but Nicky was the one who said it first. It is his covetousness that started this mess.

“He doesn’t believe us yet,” he says, instead of splaying the mess of his guilt out on the sheets between them.

“He will,” Joe says. “We will make him.”

“And will that be enough?” Nicky asks, because even now, with the incontrovertible proof between them that their confusion, their hesitation, their silence, drove Booker further into desperation than their continued presence might have, he is slow to trust and quick to draw back.

“Have a little faith,” Joe whispers, smiling, and curls around Booker, his hand reaching for Nicky’s as it always does before sleep.

It has long been a cruel twist of fate that Joe would be a far better Christian than Nicky ever has been.

Nicky loves him with an intensity that threatens to choke him.

-

Joe is out, getting fresh pastries for breakfast, when Booker blinks awake hazily. He’s turned towards the empty side of the bed, and his shoulders hunch in as soon as he sees it.

Nicky is quick to draw closer, to wrap Booker in his arms.

“You’re here,” Booker says.

“Yes,” Nicky says. “I told you we wouldn’t leave you again.”

“I would deserve it,” Booker says, and rage claws up Nicky’s throat.

If only he knew fully who he is angry with.

“What I did to you, Nicky…” Booker turns to his side to look at Nicky. “I can never undo that.”

Nicky swallows heavily and allows himself to look straight at Booker. He hasn’t, much, in all this. Not yet. There’s a crease between Booker’ eyes, and he looks ready to accept whatever Nicky says, whether it’s forgiveness or a ticket away from Bruges, away from them.

“No,” Nicky says. “You can’t undo it. That will be yours to carry.”

Booker swallows heavily and looks away.

Nicky’s hand shoots out before he can stop it. “I—” he begins, then laughs at himself. “Joe is better at this part,” he says. “The words. You know how he and I met?”

Booker nods. The crusades. They killed each other, many times. It’s a little song and dance Joe and Nicky like to do, to remind each other how long ago it was.

“No,” Nicky says. “I mean, do you _know_? I gutted Joe, once. Slit him open from groin to chin. Like a fish. And I thought I was right.”

The bedsheets crinkle as Booker moves closer to him. 

“It took me many, many years to learn how wrong I was,” Nicky says. “By the time I did, Joe had long since forgiven me.” He allows his hand to rest gently on Booker’s hip, trying to remember that he is gentle, that Joe can make him so, and that Booker deserves the same. “Every day,” he says, meeting Booker’s eyes again, “For many, many years, I lived with a forgiveness I didn’t deserve.”

“And now?” Booker asks, low and rough.

“Now, I do my best to be worthy of what he gave me.”

Booker exhales deeply. “I don’t know how—”

“Neither do I,” Nicky admits. “But his heart is so big that you don’t have to. That’s why I—” He stops, having to work at the next few words.

“That’s why I was so scared of you,” he finished at last, unable to lie to Booker. “His heart has been mine to keep, to protect, to be worthy of.”

There are worlds in Booker’s eyes when he looks at Nicky, decades of pain and moments of hope.

“Do you think I can’t be worthy of that?”

Nicky laughs. “I know you will be,” he says. “Once you see past the end of your own nose. I watched you, you know. In Tallinn. Working on another degree in computers because we don’t understand them. Stealing Joe’s art out of museums in Osaka. You’ve already done half the work, and what you need is our help, not more penance.”

“Then what?” Booker asks.

“I was scared to remind him how unworthy I was,” Nicky says. “I was scared there wouldn’t be room enough for two people to protect his heart. I forgot how big it was because my own is less magnificent.”

Booker tastes of sleep when he kisses Nicky gently. “I think your heart is magnificent,” he tells Nicky quietly.

They lie together, in each other’s arms, sharing each other’s breath and learning each other’s heartbeats until Joe returns.

-

The first time Booker fucks Joe, Nicky is lying on is side next to Joe, pressing kisses into his neck and his shoulders and Booker opens him up slowly on his fingers.

“My love,” Joe is gasping as Booker pinpoints his prostate over and over again. “My love.”

Nicky is unsure who he means, and he finds he likes that.

He looks over at Booker, gestures for him to run his fingers down Joe’s thigh, behind his knee, a movement he’d told Booker about when Joe was in the shower.

Joe shivers and gasps. “Not fair,” he gets out between clenched teeth. “You’re conspiring against me.”

“Only to give you the greatest possible pleasure,” Nicky murmurs into his ear.

“The greatest pleasure,” Joe says, “would be for you to hurry up and fuck me, Sébastien.”

When Booker slides his fingers out and his cock in, he follows this with a great many French curse words that have Booker sliding into helpless laughter even as he hitches his hips in and in and in as far as they will go.

Nicky cups Booker’s cheek in his hands when his head dips down to rest against Joe’s sternum, breathing through the pleasure of it all.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells Booker. “Now fuck him. He’s waiting for you.”

Joe arches up when Booker does as he’s told, and Nicky has no choice but to tell him, too, that he is beautiful, to stroke and kiss what skin he can reach, to reach for Joe’s cock between them, warm with blood and pulsing with desire, to stroke him in time to Booker’s thrusts.

“You were right,” Booker tells Nicky, almost but not quite joking even as he struggles to keep fucking Joe steadily, without coming himself. “He is too good for both of us.”

Joe comes laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://bewires.tumblr.com)


End file.
